Perhaps the Slingbacks?
by LegolasLover2003
Summary: Thranduil receives some uninvited guests... one of whom seems to think that the Elvenking is just a tad bit too vain... Story was totally inspired by Graham McTavish! Written for April 2015 Teitho Challenge "Raiment". This story tied for 3rd Place!


**Title:** _"Perhaps the Slingbacks?"_  
 **Author:** LegolasLover2003 aka Ashley  
 **Category:** Book - _"The Hobbit"_  
 **Genre:** General  
 **Rating:** G  
 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any rights to _"The Lord of the Rings"_ or _"The Hobbit"_. I just adore them to pieces!  
 **Author's Note:** Written for the Teitho Fanfiction contest in April 2015. The theme was "Raiment". It tied for 3rd place!

* * *

 **Perhaps the Slingbacks?**

* * *

The afternoon had been rather pleasant for the most part… a trend which was expected to continue throughout the rest of the day and into the feasting hours of Mereth en Gilith. The early morning hours had seen the great Elvenking Thranduil holding audience with a few warriors, specially trained of late by Mirkwood's senior captain Legede, who were going to patrol the northern border and relieve the contingent of Elves already there. It was a sight that, in many ways, warmed the king's heart for a brief moment. To know that his people cared for their woodland home always made his job easier, but to know that those who cared were trained by the best… well… it was a brighter morning indeed for such news and realizations.

That all changed however when Legolas returned from his most recent patrol…

Sitting comfortably upon his throne, his left knee crossed over his right and his right side pressed against the left corner and back of the grand seat, Thranduil appeared, for all the world, to be deep in a comfortable musing. The truth of the matter however was only too clear to the son who lead such a motley procession of filthy Dwarves through the pristine halls of Mirkwood's palace.

Thranduil was, in fact, asleep.

Years of practice had made it almost imperceptible to the untrained eye… but there it was, plain as day for Legolas. Seeing the left side of his father's visage only was a subtle sign between the two that he should not be disturbed since, after all, that just-so-happened to be the very side upon which the Elvenking was blind.

Ascending the steps to the upper dais, Legolas paused for a brief moment to glance back at the Dwarvish prisoners who were strung out in a line, flanked on either side by Elven archers.

"Hir nin." The prince began, knowing that his voice alone would be enough to waken the Elvenking.

While Thranduil did not appear to move at first, the archer's blue gaze flickered momentarily to a slight, almost imperceptible movement of Thranduil's right thumb upon the oaken staff that was in his hand even during a late afternoon nap.

To the Dwarves, of course, nothing would have seemed amiss… especially given the reality that Elves slept with their eyes open.

"Our patrol has stumbled upon a grouping of Dwarves in the forests." Legolas continued, undaunted by the regal form towering above him on the throne.

Very slowly the Elvenking turned his head until both eyes were upon the bound Dwarves who stood far below.

"So much for the benevolence of Thranduil, Lord of the Elves." Spoke up a rather bald Dwarf with a menacing brow. The smaller being held up his tattooed fists to show off the length of rope keeping them together. "Is this how you treat travelers to your lands?"

For a brief moment, well, it seemed like the Elvenking was simply going to ignore the rude comment. Yet a slight movement of the corner of his father's eye told Legolas all he needed to know…

"Only the ones who annoy me." Thranduil spoke, staring at the lot of Dwarves with a mixture of, well annoyance at being woken… and sheer disgust for having the beings in his home at all.

A small wave of the king's left hand, a hand resting comfortably upon the armrest of his throne, beckoned Legolas to bring a few of the Dwarves forward. The archer did just that, taking those who seemed to be speaking for the group, at least for the most part. Soon Balin, Dwalin, and Thorin were standing upon the upper dais with Legolas at their side to guard them.

"Is it a crime now to be lost in a forest? To be hungry and thirsty?" the smaller, very white-haired Dwarf with a bit of a hooked nose asked once they were assembled before the Elvenking.

Leaning his head back slightly, Thranduil quickly answered him. "It is a crime to wander in my realm without leave. If you forget, you are using the road my people made." He said, blue piercing gaze flickering over the three. "To come unto my halls unannounced is a troubling matter, for these woods are wild and dangerous and it seems to me that you have had your fair share of wild and dangerous encounters within them. Would then, I wonder, news of your death travel swift to your kin and I, in return, hear whispers that such deadly perils were to be found in this realm and thus the fault of Thranduil? How then would those of the Blue Mountains or the Iron Hills look upon me and my own kin, when such treasured lords, such as you are, are rumored dead upon my doorstep?"

When none of the Dwarves said anything, though many looked to one another in confusion at the Elvenking's words, did Thranduil dain to smirk at the riddle of his questions.

"It has been a long time since Thorin Oakenshield traveled so far East. For what purpose? Where does your journey end?"

No answer, however, was forthcoming from the Dwarves and each and every one in turn went stubbornly silent.

Thranduil waved a hand at Legolas once more. "Let them cool their heels in the dungeons. Give to them food and drink, for while our two peoples are not counted as allies… I certainly hope to have better manners than an Orc. Perhaps… in time… their lips will loosen and I may learn the true purpose of their intrusion into my realm."

Legolas needed no more prompting than that and soon had the three Dwarves upon the upper dais turned and rejoining their companions below.

Blue eyes watched as the Elves led the group away from his throne and, for the first time in a long time, Thranduil worried for the future of this people…

* * *

It was infuriating.

Legolas had met Dwarves on few occasions, one of those being the very day upon which Thror, King Under the Mountain, had dishonored the Elvenking himself and thus began the feud between their two peoples. But while he had met Dwarves… he had never truly spoken to the small beings. Nor, in truth, had he really been spoken to in turn by them as well.

So it was that Legolas found himself standing amidst his father's dungeons, watching Dwarf after Dwarf being locked away by the other members of his patrol. One by one the Elves departed, Tauriel included, until it was just the prince himself and the Keeper of the Keys.

Each Dwarf, it seemed, acted out differently from the others at being locked away. Some were singing, some were longingly staring at half-empty bowls that held hardened bread crusts from the last time a prisoner had been locked within, and then some were flinging themselves and anything they found in their cell at the door.

It was the latter, however, that garnered Legolas's attention.

"I can smell you…"

The archer blinked in confusion as his blue eyes turned immediately to, once more, the bald Dwarf with a menacing brow. He was pushed up against the bars of his cell, tattooed hands gripping the bars, and staring at Legolas as if his very gaze could strike the Elf down.

Turning to him, the prince raised one eyebrow. "I would mind my surroundings, Dwarf, and who it is you sling insult at."

"Insult or not, you can't keep us here and you know it." Dwalin spoke, the rage within the Dwarf seeming almost a palpable force. "The nerve of you Elves… the whole lot of you with your arrows and knives and holier than thou speeches. Worst of the bunch being your king. He's a bit tall… a bit gangly… a bit clean-shaven."

Legolas's gaze narrowed, one hand reaching back and unsheathing a single white-handled dagger.

But the Dwarf continued undaunted. "Yeah… With his little pointy crown. Look at him. I can just imagine that vain, blond, pointy-eared bastard's up there right now saying to himself; 'I'm meeting the Dwarves. What do you think I should wear? Do you think I should wear the silver kaftan? Or the gold, flowing robe? The crown? No crown? A sash?" Dwalin laughed to himself darkly at the thought. "I've never seen a more pompous, thick-headed…"

"Legolas!"

The sudden shout of Legede drew the prince's attention to the steps above the dungeon and, for a moment, the archer froze. He realized then that the Dwarf had been taunting him… just hoping he would make one small false move out of anger or pride or something… hoping to get Legolas back near the cells so that then the seemingly rage-crazed Dwarf could strike at him or attempt to free himself.

Insulting his father and king had been enough to do just that but thanks to Legede, the archer had not been given the time to act upon his own simmering anger. Soon Legolas had his dagger sheathed once more and, without a word, turned on his heel and headed up the stairs to his father's captain and leaving Dwalin and the other Dwarves alone to sulk.

* * *

Legede moved over to a low table within Thranduil's chambers which held a few bottles of Dorwinion. He un-stoppered one, pouring the rich dark liquid into two glasses. The latter he took for himself and the former was given to his king.

"Will you speak further with your new prisoners or are they simply to remain locked away in your dungeons?" the captain asked as he handed Thranduil a glass. "Dwarves have hearty appetites, hir nin… I would hate to think of the dent such ravenous prisoners would make in our winter stores…" he continued, sipping his wine slowly.

For a moment, Thranduil said nothing. He had been in the midst of preparing for the evening's festivities thus now, standing within his own chambers, his crown upon the dresser and his robes casual and seemingly far more plain than the attire he wore upon his throne, the Elvenking still held the grace and dignified air of his station. While the other Elf in his chambers was dear to him and had been a friend through the ages, this was still, in many ways, a serious discussion of business for the kingdom.

Thranduil's long lithe fingers gripped the cup in his hand, rings absently clinking against the glass's edge and causing the metal to ping, he finally answered. "I shall speak to their leader once more given time. The conversation I had with Thorin earlier only solidifies my mind in the notion that I can not reason with a Dwarf. However… given said time… and once they have had a chance to, 'cool their heels' as I put it earlier…" a small smirk came to the very corner of the Elvenking's lips as he shrugged slightly.

"You are enjoying this." Legede stated bluntly with a slight chuckle of amusement.

The smirk upon Thranduil's face simply grew. "It is not every day that an Elf catches a trespassing Dwarf, mellon nin… let alone twelve of them… and certainly let alone Thorin Oakenshield." However, it was then that the smirk disappeared as memory returned to the Elvenking of the news his son had brought shortly before Legede had sought a moment of Thranduil's time. "Besides, the comments of his companions are insufferable…"

"Oh, I do not know, hir nin. The Dwarf only spoke his mind." Replied Legede as the white-haired captain attempted to placate his suddenly ill-tempered king. "Your crown really is quite… pointy."

One dark eyebrow arched dangerously as Thranduil glared at the other Elf. "If you were not dear to me, mellon nin, I would be sorely tempted to remove you from these chambers for the mere grievance of agreeing with a Dwarf."

Legede laughed, "Have you so quickly forgotten the time when your youngest son tried to teethe on that very crown?"

"How could I forget? Legolas was always getting into things he should not have been. When I finally found him there was blood everywhere from…" Thranduil's voice suddenly trailed off.

Legede quirked an eyebrow at the younger Elf, "From?" his friend and captain pressed.

Sighing, the Elvenking rolled his eyes. "Pointy crown. Point made… Point taken." However a tiny smirk curved the corner of his lips. "No pun intended of course."

* * *

 **THE END**

* * *

 **Translations:**  
Mereth en Gilith = Feast of the Starlight  
Hir nin = My Lord  
Mellon nin = My friend

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**  
\- Title is in reference to a quote from the Extended Edition of _"The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug"_ disc 3 within the "Woodland Realm" section wherein Graham McTavish is making fun of Thranduil [Lee Pace] and his many outfits and says; "I just imagine Thranduil at any given moment saying: 'I'm meeting the Dwarves. What do you think I should wear? Do you think I should wear the silver kaftan? Or the gold, flowing robe? The crown? No crown? A sash? Perhaps the slingbacks?'.".  
\- Legede is an original character so please don't use him unless you ask permission from me first.  
\- Mereth en Gilith is totally a made up festival in _"The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug"_.  
\- Dialogue from Dwalin saying "So much for the benevolence of Thranduil…" until Thranduil saying "…you are using the road my people made." was from the Extended Edition of _"The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug"_ disc 3 within the "Woodland Realm" section. It was part of a scene they filmed that PJ cut.  
\- Dialogue of Dwalin saying "I can smell you…" was from the Extended Edition of _"The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug"_ disc 3 within the "Woodland Realm" section.  
\- The various things that the Dwarves were doing; singing (Dori), looking at crusty bread (Bombur), and flinging themselves at the doors (Dwalin) were from the Extended Edition of _"The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug"_ disc 3 within the "Woodland Realm" section.  
\- Dialogue of Dwalin saying "He's a bit tall. A bit gangly. A bit clean-shaven. Yeah. With his little pointy crown. Look at him." Was from the Extended Edition of _"The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug"_ disc 3 within the "Woodland Realm" section.

* * *

 **Muse Moments:**  
"I think... I'm gonna... die..." Nil falls over and Legolas and Paris both just stare at silence hangs in the room for many long minutes until Ned opens the door with a freshly baked pie in his hands.  
"Have you guys... eaten... yet... what's wrong with her? She's not... dead... right?" the piemaker semi-panics.  
Legolas smirks. "No. Not dead. Just asleep. I think..." he pokes her with a back scratcher.  
Nothing happens.  
"Yeah she's asleep..." Paris agrees with a yawn before curling up beside Nil and using her as a pillow. "NAP TIME!"  
Legolas sighes. "I think I shall join you for pie." the Elf says, turning Ned around and steering the piemaker back out of the room, closing the door behind him.


End file.
